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Chapter XLIII - Twenty Years Apart
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The second person Athena thought of who could help, was Henri Clermont.
With one of her father's new horses he had bought, the girl rode the twenty kilometres to Dublin. Moonlight illuminated the path, and although the night was beautiful, it was eerily so. And quiet. There were hardly any animals or bugs out. The young mare's footsteps beating against the dusty road was the only sound.
They stopped to rest for a few hours, but by daybreak, continued on their journey. Athena arrived at the entrance of Henri's shop right at opening time.
Swarms of people—men, women, and children—flocked to the entrance doors. Athena pushed and shoved against them, struggling to reach the inside. She nearly tripped and fell down trying to get into the door.
"Mademoiselle Athena!" shouted a familiar voice.
The girl perked her head up in the direction of the sound.
"Excuse me! Pardon!" he yelled.
The crowd parted to let the owner of the shop shuffle through; heads turned as he walked by. His average build appeared sleeker with the impeccably tailored suit. And it seemed as though something in him had changed. No longer a timid man was he. An air of confidence exhumed off of him.
"We have a very important customer here! Please make way!" Henri picked up Athena's hand and kissed it. "Ah, mademoiselle. It feels as though it has been forever since we have last spoken. As you can see, my business has tripled since your last visit! All thanks to your aunt and cousins, who have helped me in…" he leaned in, holding a hand up to his lips, "'conversational manners'."
Athena looked around, and sure enough, Margie and Rubina were assorting gowns and attending customers. A few other men and women flocked about the shop as well, with dark forest greens gowns and uniforms—Henri's handiwork, of course.
"Henri, I am afraid I have an emergency situation at stake," Athena admitted, pulling him to the side.
His face changed. His genuine delight in seeing one of his favorite customers faded. "Emergency?" His brows curled." A fashion emergency? Did one of your gowns rip? Or did your mother knit you another one of those blue-and-pink monstrosities—"
"Oh, no, no," Athena said, shaking her head. "An actual emergency, Henri." She drew closer to him and whispered in his ear: "About one of your old friends."
Henri's brows knitted together at first. But soon his face unfurled and years and years of secrecy and pain and guilt were revealed in his eyes. His face fell and his eyes hit the floor.
All around him, feet shuffled—people picking up gowns and suits and trying them on, and then putting them back on the rack or buying them. So many vibrant colors and patterns to choose from. His life's work in the microcosm of one button, or a stitch, or the knot of a bow.
His business had expanded to be larger than he could ever have imagined. It didn't seem real—or even possible—considering what had happened twenty years before.
If I go back now, would I end up losing everything I have? he thought.
Henri picked his eyes up.
Everyone in the store, all the customers, workers, Margie and Rubina, and Athena, watched as he made his decision.
"Mademoiselle Margareta, take care of the shop while I'm gone."
"Yes, Monsieur Clermont," Margie spoke, without hesitation, immediately taking charge.
Henri nodded, then walked toward the door and donned a dark traveling coat. "Lead the way, Mademoiselle Athena."
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With each step closer to the small town of Athena's childhood, Henri tensed even more. Passing by the small marine community, he pulled his cloak over his head.
"We're almost there, Henri," Athena said, kicking the mare to go a little bit faster.
Henri ushered his horse along, too, catching up with Athena. "If I may ask, mademoiselle, how did you find out that I was… Sir Claudius's previous apprentice?"
"I mentioned you after my lovely trip to Dublin last summer, and then he told me that you were his apprentice."
"Ah, ah." Henri nodded his head. "You have not told me yet what has occurred with Sir Claudius?"
Athena looked ahead, peering over the grassy hill. The silvery tip-tops of Beochaoineadh Castle appeared above the curve of the land. "He's sick, Henri. Very sick."
Henri's face turned white. "I- I have not seen him in so many years. I am sure he has aged." He sighed, his head falling and locks of blonde hair cascading over his eyes. "I am so glad you brought me here, Athena. I… never got to thank him for all that he did for me." A slight grin grew on his lips, but it dissipated away just as soon as it came.
"Here we are."
Shooting his head up, the man took in the castle. He gasped. "It is the same…." His head turned toward the gardens, blooming with brightly-colored roses and tulips. "Except those."
"My feminine touch," Athena said, curling her hair on her finger.
Henri laughed before his smile faltered.
"Come on." Athena leaped off of her horse and sprinted toward the side of the castle.
Henri pointed at the entrance but she shook her head, instead beckoning him to bring his horse in the other direction. He hopped off then walked, rather wobbly, through the tall grass. He tiptoed through the mud, trying not to cover the entire shoe in the muck.
Pushing through a hole in the side of the castle, Athena disappeared, sucked in by the inner blackness of the dungeons.
The man followed suit.
Everything was black and dark at first; his head throbbed while his vision re-adjusted.
"Athena, where have you been?!" a woman's voice scolded. "I went home and you weren't there, then came back this morning, having to leave the childr—"
Henri focused on where the voice hailed from: a woman, with long brunette hair… hair that cascaded over her shoulders like someone he once knew….
Isolde took a step forward. "Henri…?" She reached out a hand. "But you're… dead…."
Henri's eyes lit up. "Mademoiselle Byrne! It's you!"
He took her hand, and she squeezed his palm to make sure he was real.
Athena looked back and forth between Henri and her mother. "Ma… how do you know him?" she asked shakily, unsteady on her feet.
A rumble sounded throughout the dungeon; scales scraped against the stone floor.
Henri turned away from Athena and Isolde, spinning to face the noises. His smile dissipated and fell away as a black creature tore out of the darkness.
Misty blue eyes broke through the dust coming up off of the floor. They landed on the three of them and then focused on the man, dilating and un-dilating.
Clutching his chest, Henri fell to the floor. He kicked his legs up in the air and scooted backward.
Isolde and Athena crouched down at the man's side, shushing him.
"Hey, hey, it's alright," the girl said, her eyes wide and her skin pale. "Everything's fine." She shuddered as Claudius rose higher and higher, almost to the tip-top of the dungeon ceiling. There was a wildness in his eyes she had never seen there before.
The monster's claws scratched the stone floor as he took a few steps forward. Sticking his snout out, he took a few whiffs of the man, then puffed the air out.
Henri bent backward, but Athena and Isolde gripped onto his arms and urged him to stay upright. Sweat beads broke across his forehead and trickled down his face. His breathing fell and rose in shallow breaths.
Claudius dug his claws into the ground, shifting the stone blocks. The truth washed over his face as he realized who the man was; even in dragon form, his eyes widened and fear and realization swept over his features. The dragon backed up, practically running away from the man.
Henri dared to look into the eye of the beast. But when he did, the man noticed a softness in the big blue orbs. The dragon's head lowered, and the shock fell away as guilt took over.
"Claudius…" he said. "You-you're…." Henri cleared his throat. "Athena, you didn't tell me he was that sick."
Athena perked a tiny bit, before turning to her mother. "And Ma, you didn't tell me you knew Henri."
Isolde let go of her firm grip on Henri's arm. "Well, child, I… I didn't know he was still alive. When he disappeared twenty years ago, I thought, surely, he was too weak to survive." Her gaze drifted toward the man. "I still can hardly believe my eyes." She smiled and cleared her throat, before looking at Sir Claudius. The woman cringed as she bit down on her tongue.
"I 'spose we'll have to explain things," Athena said, calming down. She, too, glanced in Claudius's direction. His form slumped over, and his head hung low. Her heart shattered into pieces as Sir Claudius's knees buckled. He once again fell upon the ground, too weak to stand.
~❦︎~
The fire was cold.
Isolde stood again to throw a log into the fireplace. The log settled, tucking underneath the others, and a false heat arose for only a second. But just as soon as it had rekindled, it died, and the dungeon was colder than before. Isolde resumed her position on the stone floor, in-between Henri and Athena.
"Would you like to hear a story, Athena?"
"What kind?" the girl said, lifting her head out of her palms. Soot and dust had caked on her face, but little pale lines streaked down her cheeks where tears had been.
"I suppose the true kind," Isolde replied. She glanced over at Henri, who had fallen asleep, his head in-between his knees. His dark traveling hat shadowed his eyes.
"Do you believe all the stories about Sir Claudius wore him out?" Isolde asked.
"Those weren't stories, Ma."
"Oh, everything is a story, Athena. Don't you know that?" Isolde smiled, the dull flames reflecting in her eyes.
The girl humphed, sliding closer to her mother. "So is this going to be a 'story', or a history?"
Isolde put an arm around her daughter. "Let it be both," she cooed. "Now, where to begin?" Her eyes danced around the dungeon, tracing the enormous form of Sir Claudius, then to the fireplace, and back again to her daughter. She smiled. "Once there was a young girl."
"Is this about me? I know it's about me, Ma."
"No, no, it's not about you, Athena." Isolde petted the unruly curls on top of her daughter's head. "It was… someone who came before you, years before. She didn't have much growing up, and in fact, she had hardly anything at all. This young girl did all the chores about her farm, both inside and outside. Even with twelve brothers and sisters, as the eldest, she was expected to do everything."
"This is soundin' an awful lot like—"
"Do you have twelve brothers and sisters? I didn't think so," Isolde huffed, clearing her throat. "Now. This young girl's Pa was… a drunkard. It was the whiskey that got to 'im. And the Ma…. Well, the Ma was sickly." She brushed the straight brunette strands out of her eyes and behind her ears, looking off into the distance.
"But even so, the young girl remained kind and helpful. She cared for her Ma when she was ill, her Pa when he was drunk, her brothers and sisters when they needed anything, even for the animals in the forest. She devoted… all of her time to those around her in need. Not truly, understanding why other than a feeling within her heart that if she didn't care for them, no one would. And she was right.
"One morning, just before dawn, the girl trekked through the forest, just as she had every day since childhood. But, this time, no birds, or any other forest animals came to greet her, and the forest grew very quiet. Was a predator nearby? She didn't know."
A log fell, cascading on top of the others, sending blazing ashes into the dungeon. Athena and Isolde turned their heads for a moment at the snapping sound, before slowly facing each other once again.
"It wasn't a bear, or wolf, but a man."
Athena's eyebrows lifted, cutting a thin oblique line into her skin.
"He was gravely injured. Deep wounds were all across his body. And his skin had already turned pale. His breathing was shallow. But there was something about him—even with the wounds that marred his appearance, I knew I had never seen a man like him before. The fabric, although shredded in half, was unlike any fabric I'd ever seen before. And he wasn't big like the men I'd grown up seeing; he looked as though he weighed less than me!"
"Ma…" Athena's eyes widened and her mouth hung open. "It's you! And—and—the man… was it—Pa?" she shrieked, backing away for a moment.
Henri stirred in his sleep.
Isolde nodded toward the thin, pale man with exquisite traveling attire.
Athena turned back around, looking back and forth between her mother and Henri. Her brows furrowed and creases ran along her forehead. "You… nursed him back to health."
"That I did." Isolde opened her arms up, invited her daughter back in. Athena scooched over, her eyes still in a daze and her body still in shock. "I dragged him back to the barn and laid him in a haystack. For two months, I tended to his wounds and cooked for him."
"Did no one notice?" Athena asked.
Isolde laughed, squeezing her daughter tightly. "Keeping secrets—hiding things—seems to be common in this family."
The girl nuzzled close into her mother's arms, and grinned, shutting her eyes.
"Anyway, I got to know him better. We spoke several times when he came to. I wasn't sure if he would make it, even when he was fully coherent since one of the wounds was badly infected. He told me his story—about Sir Claudius and Beochaoineadh Castle and hours and hours of talk about dresses and gowns!"
They both laughed before Isolde quieted down again.
"And then one morning, he wasn't under the blanket in the hay. I thought perhaps Pa had found out about him, but he hadn't. A trail of blood led into the forest. I followed it for as long as I could until I couldn't go any further. I thought… I thought perhaps a wild animal had caught him, or that he had been attacked again by those drunkards in town. So, I wrote Sir Claudius a letter, telling him all that had happened. He wrote back many times, and I answered but a few. It seemed each day for weeks I was receiving them, asking if I had seen Henri, asking if the wounds were healed enough for him to survive on his own…. Eventually, I suppose I had to tell him the truth. I did not think Henri would survive. Sir Claudius never wrote another letter."
Isolde took a stick and poked at the flames. "I thought of visiting him at the castle, just to… Oh, I'm not sure. Just to satisfy me own curiosity. Why hadn't Sir Claudius written me back? Had Henri returned to the castle? But… around that time, the púcaí—" She let out a sigh, petting her daughter's hair. Tears welled up in her eyes and the sparks in the fireplace flew about. "They granted me a gift." She smiled, laughing and wiping away the tears on her sleeve.
"I can't believe you're cryin', Ma," Athena said. "Stop it, won't you?" she teased.
"Oh, I can't, Athena. Once I start cryin', I can't stop. Oh, that was so long ago, I hardly remember it now. It is hard to believe that you are… the age I was when I was granted the gift. It doesn't seem like it should be that long ago, and yet, it feels like forever ago."
The crying and trembling of Isolde awoke Henri. He moaned before tossing his head about; his hat flew off. The dull thud echoed in the chambers. Henri's eyes flitted, blinking over and over as he aroused. "Pardon me, I believe I dozed off," he said, reaching for his hat.
"More than dozed off," Athena said.
"I do apologize." He yawned.
Isolde extended her strong arm, reaching out for Henri's hand. "I told Athena the story." She wiped away a tear with her free hand.
"You did. Yes, yes, as you should. Of course," he said matter-of-factly, before coming to and opening his eyes fully. "Ehh… You did?"
"Yes," Athena said, giggling, the pink blossoms of her cheeks shining through the gray soot and ash. "I think I am beginnin' to see the full picture now. I had no idea we were all as connected as we are."
Isolde's head dipped, but she soon turned to face her daughter. "Athena," she spoke.
The girl turned away from Henri to face her mother.
"There is still one piece of the story I'm missing." She squeezed her daughter's hand. "I know that you and Sir Claudius are dear friends, but—"
A low groan sounded throughout the dungeon. Claudius turned over, although still in a state of rest.
"What do you mean, Ma?" Athena asked, pulling her hands away from the two of them and bringing them into her lap. She fiddled with the fabric on her dress.
"I do not believe I have the full story of you and Sir Claudius. I do not even fully understand—"
The girl stood, rocking back and forth on her heels. "Ma, I—" she gasped.
Henri's blue eyes were soft and understanding, but her Ma's sliced into her like eagle talons.
And then Sir Claudius in the distance; she knew he had silvery-blue eyes under those black lids; those eyes that were waiting on her, depending on her. They would never open again unless she found some way to break the curse.
"I'm sorry, I can't," she whispered under her breath.
Isolde reached out to her daughter. "Athena. Athena!"
The girl transformed into Milly, scattered across the stone floor, and climbed out through the hole in the dungeon.